The Blind Boy
by Cat at Dusk
Summary: Someone sets fire to the Dursleys' house when Harry is three years old. The Boy-Who-Lived is blind, and grows up in a quiet home. A drastically different story unfolds.
1. Prologue

Prologue

-{[(|)]}-

A hooded figure peered from across the street at Number 4, Privet Drive. Nothing stirred; it was well past midnight, and respectable folk - that is, all those in the neighborhood - were fast asleep. Even so, the figure sat carefully still, quite well hidden in the branches of a conveniently located oak tree. From one voluminous sleeve a worn pocketwatch appeared. The figure noted the time, nodded silently, and drew a small electronic device from an inner pocket. Some sharp observer might have noticed an ounce of hesitation, a small moment of indecision... then a switch was pulled, and a button pressed. A minute later, the tree was empty and the street unoccupied. A minute after that, a violent explosion rent the night.

Later, it would be reported as an electrical malfunction. The Dursleys' breaker box appeared to be hopelessly outdated, and with two air conditioners and a television left on through the night, it was no wonder that the system overloaded and sparked. Unfortunately, all three Dursleys perished in the resulting fire. Curiously enough, though, there was one survivor. A small boy, no more than three years old, with a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. In the hustle and bustle of the aftermath, he was passed on to an orphanage in London. It was the nurse there who first discovered that he was blind.

-{[(|)]}-

Mr. and Mrs. Huang were a relatively young Chinese couple who lived in a two-story building near the heart of London. The first floor was dedicated to the running of their weapons store and martial arts school; the second housed their living quarters. Usually, the shop was managed solely by Mrs. Huang, while her husband taught the motley assortment of students. Either one of them could easily have switched roles, but this was - for whatever reason - the arrangement that gave them the best results.

Wei Huang was a dark-eyed, deceptively thin man of average height, who kept his hair close-cropped and his chin clean-shaven. He was a patient teacher and made a point of treating all his students equally, although he could be quite firm with those who acted up during class. His wife, Mary, was a slight woman with long black hair and a soft, easy laugh. Every weekend, she would make from scratch an enormous batch of chocolate candies, which she would then dispense to neighbours, customers, and students alike. The Huangs were personable folk, everybody agreed, and fairly good at what they did, too. It was such a shame that they couldn't have children...

So when Mrs. Douglas heard from Mr. Rastrick that his friend Diane had a sister who worked in an orphanage, and that they were looking for a nice couple to raise a quiet little boy, she told Mrs. Huang straight away. The Huangs took some persuading and some enticing, but they finally agreed to go have a look at the child. They did insist, however, on going alone, and so the rest of the neighbourhood had to wait for news to filter back through Mrs. Douglas. What a surprise it was, when the couple came back - with a blind boy in tow!

-{[(|)]}-

The boy's name was Harry James Potter (which soon became Harry J.P. Huang), and he fit in quite well at the Huangs' residence. Mr. and Mrs. Huang told their neighbours very firmly that his blindness was not an issue, and that he was a nice, well-behaved child. They consulted all the proper books and sent him to a school for the blind when he was five years old. At the same time, they began to have him help out around the house - although they made sure to impress upon young Harry the dangers that sharpened weapons could pose. They taught him to feel out the shape of things that he could no longer see, and to use his white cane to avoid collisions in unfamiliar places.

When Harry was a bit older, Mr. Huang started to teach him Wing Chun, the martial art he specialized in. Harry's blindness was actually an advantage here, helping him develop his touch sensitivity and what his father called "proprioception" - awareness of his own body. He was soon joining the intermediate class after school, and Mr. Huang was proud to tell him (privately, of course) that he did very well there. By the time Harry was ten, he knew all six Wing Chun forms by heart, and was fairly proficient in their version of sparring. He loved to use butterfly swords, the trademark weapon of the art, even if he sometimes hit himself with them. Mr. Huang prudently kept all the training swords blunted, just in case.

Thus, Harry grew up with a healthy respect for sharp objects, and a deep sense of gratitude for the people who taught him to overcome his disability without ever making it feel like one. Around those who could not see past his milky eyes, he learned to carry himself with a certain quiet dignity. It sometimes felt incongruous in a child so young, but Harry far preferred to be treated with confusion than with pity. He was approaching his teens, after all, and he could take care of himself.

This is how things stood when the giant came.

* * *

A/N

There will be more, I promise. The -{[(|)]}- is my version of a scene break. This is my first story. Read and review, please.


	2. The Giant

The Giant

-{[(|)]}-

Harry woke on his birthday with the deeply satisfying knowledge that he was now eleven years old. A grin split his face as he stretched luxuriously. He spent a while simply lying in bed - the shop and school would be closed for the day, so that he and his parents could spend some time together. Moving into long-established routine, he dragged himself up into sitting position, felt for the edge of the bed, and swung his legs over. His feet slid into warm slippers as he hit the top of the alarm clock on his bedside table. Almost in the same motion, he turned the page in his Braille calendar and read the date with his fingers.

"Seven forty-seven a.m. and twenty-one seconds," the clock intoned.

July 31st, 1991, the calendar told him.

Yawning, he stood and unbuttoned his pajama top, draping it over the footboard as he shuffled past it. _15 steps to the closet_. He pulled open the closet door and grabbed a set of clothes from where he knew their respective piles lay. _Top left, underwear. Top right, socks. Bottom left, shirt. Bottom right, pants._ Shutting the door, Harry carried his outfit back to the bed and deftly changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. Leaving his slippers just by the bed's corner post and his pajama bottoms next to their counterpart on the footboard, he stepped out into the hallway.

"Hey, the birthday boy is up!" his dad announced. Harry smiled in the direction of the voice and felt his way along the wall and into their small dining room. Ma called out a cheerful greeting from the kitchen, accompanied by the delicious scent of green onion pancakes and omelette fried rice. He heard the clink of a stack of plates and utensils being placed on the table and quickly went to work setting them out. Soon the three members of the Huang family were digging in, and it was promising to be quite a good day. His parents spent most of breakfast discussing business, as usual, but Pa did add that they would go shopping later for Harry's birthday. They were cleaning up after the meal when the doorbell rang downstairs.

"Pretend we're not here, and maybe they'll go away," Harry's mom whispered, making him giggle quietly. As the ringing became more insistent, however, Pa sighed; the sound of his footsteps retreated in the direction of the stairs. The other two finished clearing the table and listened in on the bits of conversation that filtered through the doorway. They heard someone mention a letter for Hog Warts Something or Other. And Harry's name - that was interesting. His eyebrows rose, and he was starting towards the door even before his father called for the both of them.

-{[(|)]}-

A gruff voice greeted him as he reached the bottom of the stairs - "An' here's Harry!" A gigantic hand patted him on the shoulder, nearly buckling him. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, now. I guess yeh'd have yer mum's eyes, too, except fer, well..." the voice trailed off in an embarrassed-sounding cough.

"Er..." Harry began uncertainly.

"Ah, that's right, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." The hand grabbed his entire arm and shook it enthusiastically. "I heard about the fire - we all did - but Dumbledore said yeh came out alright, an' that's what really matters, innit? Now, I assume that this lot are Muggles, eh? 'S alright, I can explain everythin' on the way ter Diagon Alley. We got lots ter do today, so we'd best -"

Ma interrupted, "Mr. Hagrid. I think we'd all appreciate it if you explained everything right here and now. We don't even know who you are; we're not about to go off with you to some random alleyway." Her voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of steel to it.

Apparently Hagrid didn't pick up on it, because he answered in the same amiable tone, "Oh, sure, that's fine. I s'pose this would all be pretty strange ter yeh. Wouldn't hurt that much ter get all the explainin' outta the way first. Hrm, let's see now… Might be a bit hard to believe, but Harry here - well, Harry's a wizard."

...Well. Harry didn't know what he had been expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn't that.

Perhaps Hagrid sensed their incredulity, because he continued hurriedly, "I mean, surely yeh've noticed strange things happening around 'im - hair turnin' blue, things disappearin', stuff like that. It's different fer everyone, but wizards tend ter show their magic when they're scared or angry."

At this, Harry started, and he knew his parents would be giving each other considering looks over his head. There _had_ been several inexplicable occurrences over the years. Once, when Harry was seven, he had slipped and fallen down the stairs to their rooms. His mother had screamed and rushed him to the hospital, but they had found nothing wrong with him, not even a bruised tailbone. Another time, Harry had been playing with a model airplane and accidently let it fly out of his window. He had cried out and reached for it, and even though he knew it should have been long gone, he suddenly found it back in his grasp. Both of these events, as well as others, had deeply puzzled him and his parents, and they had long since given up finding the answers. If Hagrid was telling the truth, though; if Harry was a _wizard_...

In any case, Hagrid was still speaking. He told them about the Magical World, and that wizards and witches secretly lived alongside non-magical folk, or Muggles. He told them about Voldemort (or You-Know-Who, as he insisted on saying), and how he had been somehow unable to kill the one-year-old Harry, even as his birth parents - fairly capable wizards in their own right - fell to his wand. And he went on and on about 'the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world' and its Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. By the way he spoke, he seemed to think it a foregone conclusion that Harry would attend Hogwarts. Harry's parents were quick to free him of this notion, however. Among somewhat caustic opinions of an enrollment-from-birth system, his father added that they had yet to see any hard proof of what Hagrid was trying to explain to them.

"As fer that, best we all go to Diagon Alley. Easiest and safest, and yeh'll be needing yer school supplies anyway, Harry - if yeh do end up goin' to Hogwarts, I mean," he amended hastily.

-{[(|)]}-

After a lengthy discussion, Harry's parents finally agreed to accompany Hagrid to this so-called Diagon Alley. They had been planning to shop for Harry's birthday present anyway, and it wasn't too far by train. However, Pa informed Hagrid that both would be ready to call the police at a moment's notice, and that they would not be above using violence, if it came to that. With that said, they were off.

Along the way, Harry, who was much more inclined to accept Hagrid's story than his parents were, peppered the giant with questions about the Wizarding World. What kinds of spells were there? How were they cast? Had there ever been a blind wizard before? And why didn't the rest of the world know about all this? Hagrid answered to the best of his ability, and did mention a promising spell called the Supersensory Charm; but he admitted that he didn't know all of the details. Once Harry touched on the subject of magical animals, though, Hagrid's voice became much more animated. This was obviously his area of expertise. He waxed eloquent about hypogriffs, threstrals, and other dangerous-sounding beasts; in fact, Harry could barely get a word in edgewise until they were halfway across London.

"Hagrid," he finally interjected, "All these creatures... They aren't actually _at_ Hogwarts, are they?"

The huge man paused. "Well, not all of 'em, no. There's some that live in the Forbidden Forest - and that's Forbidden fer a reason, mind yeh - but they keep ter themselves fer the mos' part. An' we don't have anythin' like dragons, that's fer sure." He gave a chuckle that ended in a wistful sigh. Harry sensed his parents' misgivings almost palpably increasing, but Hagrid seemed blissfully unaware as he chattered on.

Soon enough they reached their stop, and Hagrid led them out of the station and onto a noisy street. They entered what felt like a tavern, where the big man seemed inclined to stop for a bit and chat, but Harry's parents urged him on through - perhaps they didn't like the look of the clientele. They halted outside the building, and Harry heard Hagrid rustle about for a bit. "Three up… two across. Right, stand back, you lot." There were three heavy taps. Pa and Ma gasped; Harry heard a sound like bricks shifting against each other. A secret passageway? That was pretty neat.

"Welcome," Hagrid said proudly, "to Diagon Alley."

-{[(|)]}-

A whirlwind of activity followed, during which time Harry accumulated an inheritance (he had an inheritance?), several new outfits, a cauldron, and various magical odds and ends. He also put in an order with Flourish and Botts for the standard set of first-year schoolbooks in Braille, to be delivered by owl within the week. In Madam Malkin's he encountered a boy with a drawling voice, who introduced himself rather sneeringly as Draco Malfoy. An interesting character, that one. Still, Malfoy had nothing on the wand maker, Ollivander. All that talk about wands choosing their wizards and the 'curious' connection between Harry's and Voldemort's wands... Pa could at times be quite passionate about his blades, but he never spoke of them as if they were _alive_, the way Ollivander did. All of them were relieved when they finally left the place, and they spent their meal break roundly abusing the creepy shopkeeper and his lackluster customer service (Ma declared him a 2 out of 10 on her personal scale).

The older Huangs were finally warming up to Hagrid, now that they had some proof that he wasn't simply insane. They were a bit taken aback when he pulled an enormous cake out from somewhere, but they accepted it with good grace, as well as his offer to buy Harry an owl for his birthday. It was perhaps a bit unnecessary, given the boy's newly-revealed fortune, but a nice gesture nonetheless. They sounded especially pleased when Hagrid explained that wizarding owls carried post - they had been wondering how to keep in touch. One short visit to Eeylops Owl Emporium later, Harry was carrying a large owl with a beautiful eight-tone hoot. The shop owner assured him that it would take perfectly good care of itself; he only needed to let it out at night to hunt. Ma also took the opportunity to give Harry a present of her own - a comfortable wand holster that fit snugly onto his forearm and would shoot his new wand into his grasp with a simple gesture.

"It's also charmed to repel dirt, attach itself on command, and polish your wand for you!" she said brightly, and that's how Harry knew his mum had come to terms with this new, magical world. Pa mentioned that his own birthday gift for Harry was waiting at home; on that note, they prepared to part ways.

Before he left, Hagrid pressed a small slip of paper into Harry's hands. "Yer ticket fer Hogwarts. First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Hope to see yeh at school, Harry!"

"Hagrid," Pa interrupted, turning the paper over in his son's palms, "What on earth does it mean by 'Platform Nine and Three Quarters'? Train platforms go by whole numbers."

"Blimey, that's right!" the giant exclaimed, slapping his forehead, "Don't worry, all yeh gotta do is run straight at the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. There'll be other magical folk around, too. Some of 'em keep a lookout fer confused Muggleborns - Dumbledore puts 'em up to it, see. You'll be just fine."

With that, Hagrid clapped Harry on the back, said his farewells, and was gone.

* * *

A/N

Thanks for all the positive feedback on the prologue! I hope this chapter answers some of your questions and concerns. More details about Dumbledore's reaction to the fire will be revealed in later chapters. It took me about a month to write this full-length chapter, but hopefully updates will come more quickly with practice.

Some of Hagrid's dialogue comes directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, but the circumstances have obviously changed. In canon, Muggleborn wizards receive their letters in person, with a Hogwarts staff member arriving to explain things to them and their families. My reasoning is that Dumbledore assumed the Dursleys would at least tell Harry what he was, and he only dispatched Hagrid when it became clear that the letters would not be answered. In my story, he follows standard procedure, treating Harry as a Muggleborn (albeit one with special history). Hagrid would have volunteered for the duty, wanting to see the boy that Lily and James's baby had grown up to be.


End file.
